


Shore Leave

by mosylu



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cunnilingus, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Rebelcaptain Smut Weekend, Yep I went there, the picnic's not the only thing getting eaten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: Cassian is barely out of the med bay, and he's supposed to be relaxing. Jyn is there to make sure he does. Even if he insists on trying to take care of her instead.Written for the Rebelcaptain Smut Weekend on Tumblr





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Holy cow, it’s been a long time since I wrote any smut! This story has been half-written for about nine months now. Thank you to @rebelcaptainsmutweekend for inspiring me to finish it.

Jyn grabbed the branch above her head and braced one bare foot against the trunk of the old, twisted tree. With a grunt and a rustle of leaves, she hoisted herself up.

“What are you doing?” Cassian asked, opening one eye to peer at her. He was stretched out on the picnic blanket. The sunlight through the leaves dappled his body.

“Climbing a tree,” she grunted. “Didn’t you ever climb a tree?”

“Not a lot of good climbing trees on Fest,” he said with a yawn, flinging his arm over his eyes as the light shifted and beamed through the leaves into his eyes.

She thought about suggesting that he try it, but he’d been in a bacta tank three days ago, and far too prone to forgetting that fact. Maybe she was being fussy like he said, but then, he wasn’t the one who’d come back from a mission to Bodhi’s white, anxious face, and then sat in the med wing for a very stubborn thirty-six hours, waiting to hear about Cassian’s condition.

So if you asked her, she got to fuss.

She settled into place on a branch, and hooked her arms over another one. The bark was rough through the thin cloth of her dress, but the sunlight filtered through the green leaves and the breeze was a little cooler here in the shade.

She settled her chin on the branch in between her arms and let out a soft breath. _Relax_ , she ordered herself. They had the whole afternoon before either of them were back on duty, and that had taken a good bit of wrangling and some shameless guilting of both their superiors.

She was getting used to this, she thought. Used to having someone to worry about besides herself. Used to fears chasing themselves around her head and the yawning threat of losing someone and having to live without them.

She didn’t like it, exactly, but somehow it was better than before.

A comm bleated, and she scowled. Off duty meant no comms, right? Whoever was calling them was going to have to deal with their disappointment.

When Cassian shifted and took his comm out of his pocket, Jyn pelted him with a tree nut.

He ducked and narrowed his eyes at her.

She pointed at him. “You. Captain. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“I am,” he protested. He gestured at his prone body, stretched out along the picnic blanket. “See? I’m relaxing as hard as I can.”

“Relaxing doesn’t include answering comms.”

“I - ”

She winged another tree nut at him. It missed and bounced into the picnic basket, which luckily had been cleaned out of its contents.

Still he said, “Fine! Fine. I’ll put it away.”

“Not in your pocket,” she growled. “You’ll just look at it again.”

He dropped it in the picnic basket. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

He lay back down, his mouth quirking up under his mustache. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Up in that tree there.”

“Relaxing,” she said, swinging her legs. Something caught her eye, and she squinted toward the base. “The Falcon’s leaving,” she reported. “Funny, I hadn’t heard Solo was assigned to anything.”

“Who’s not relaxing now?”

“I am relaxing,” she said. “Look at me; I’m out of uniform and everything. Why do you think I wore a dress?”

“So I would look at your legs.”

She snorted. “You need my legs exposed to look at them?”

“No, but it helps.”

Actually, she’d worn a dress because it was light cotton, loose and airy, and this stupid planet’s idea of summer was blistering hot and swamp-ass humid. She’d had to borrow it from one of the other soldiers, but it fit pretty well, and Cassian had been looking at her legs all day, so she considered it a win even if she wasn’t about to go restock her entire wardrobe with dresses.

He sat up, and she said automatically, “Lie back down.”

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and coming over to her tree. He hooked his arm over the branch she sat on and looked up at her. “Really, Jyn, I feel fine.”

“You were in a bacta tank three days ago.”

“I’m not now.”

She clenched her teeth and thought about hitting him. She didn’t.

The height of the branch meant her knees were right about at face level. He brushed the hem of the dress aside and pressed his lips to her knee, on a scar from a couple of missions ago. “I know I scared you,” he said, low. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology for doing your job,” she said, but there was no bite in it.

“I’m not apologizing for that,” he said, kissing her other knee. “I’m sorry that you were scared and upset.”

“You couldn’t have helped it.”

“Still.” His hand slipped in between her knees and nudged them slightly apart.

“What are you doing?”

He tipped his face up to her, smiling. “If you have to ask, we’ve been apart too long.”

They had. They really had. Still - “Here?”

“You’ve been taking care of me,” he said. “Let me take care of you for a little bit.”

She curled her toes against his side. His ribs moved under the sole of her foot, in and out. Reassuring.

“I’ll get down,” she said.

“This is fine,” he said. “The angle is perfect, I have the tree to brace me - ” He licked a little circle on her inner thigh. His beard scratched pleasantly. “Unless you want to get down.”

His free hand slid up her thigh, under the skirt. She bit her lip. “No.”

He turned his head and licked a matching circle on her other leg.

She hooked one leg over his shoulder, then the other, her knees spreading wider to give him room. He smiled against her skin and she shuddered with the sensation as he worked his slow, hot, wet way up the tender skin toward her center.

He pushed her skirt up to the top of her thighs and traced a tingling line along the edge of her underwear. “On or off?”

“Off,” she mumbled, dizzy with heat.

“A little help, then?”

She shifted her ass on the branch, hosting herself up with her arms until she felt her underwear slide down her legs and she could settle back down, naked ass on the one thin layer of cloth.

The breeze whispered around them, cooling the dampness between her legs and she thought, _Oh fuck, we’re outside, that’s right._

He must have felt her tense up, because he paused. “Jyn,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said, dropping one hand down to smooth his over his hair, to trace the line of his ear and the tender nape of his neck. His hair was soft and his breath was warm on her skin and he was here and he was fine and she wanted to reiterate that to herself over and over and over again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

She curled her fingers in his sun-warmed hair and let herself feel. The brush of his lips, the scratch of his beard, the feel of his hair against her thigh. One of his arms wrapped around her ass, his hand splayed on her lower back to steady her. Blood pulsing between her legs, the way her dress slid over her tight nipples as she took quick shaky breaths. The heat slowly twisting up her center.

His fingers led the way, parted her folds, making room for his tongue.

She whimpered.

He knew her noises; knew that was a good one. His tongue swirled soft and slow over her clit, teasing her.

“Cassian,” she moaned. “Please.”

“Mmm?” The little hum against her made her gasp. She stroked his hair, knowing he liked it, reminding herself not to push his head into her crotch because he very much didn’t like that.

(When you took a spy as your lover, you became a cartographer of triggers, some of which would never get explained. Her mental map of Cassian Andor was very carefully labeled in certain places. Here there be dragons.)

He kept it slow, teasing, taunting, as she squirmed against him, clutching her branch so as not to fall.  Her whole body was tight with need, jolting when he pressed his fingers to a certain spot or paused his tongue just before another spot.

“Cassian,” she grunted. “Your fingers.”

He was good at translating her, but a bloody damn expert at teasing her. He traced the base of her clit, ran his fingers around the edge of her entrance, neither of which places were where she wanted his fingers and he knew it.

“Cassian,” she growled, and felt him laugh against her before he slid one finger - still teasing - into her. She pushed down into his hand, a needy noise escaping her throat. He added another and fucked her with them slowly, almost thoughtfully.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please.”

His tongue flicked once, hard, over her clit, sending her up in flames. She skimmed along the event horizon, gasping for air. Then he curled his fingers _just right_ and lightning speared up her spine, pulling her tight before snapping.

She shuddered her way through her climax.

She rested her cheek against the branch and let her eyes slide closed. The sunlight filtered red through her eyelids as he licked her clean, her thighs trembling around him.

He kissed his way back down her thigh and rested his forehead against her knees. She could still feel the smile, there against her skin. Not a smile. A smirk.

Well.

They’d just see about that.

She swung her legs off his shoulders and nudged his chest with one bare toe. He looked up at her, politely curious, but stepped back when she nudged him again. She slid off the branch, hanging by her arms briefly before letting go and dropping the short distance to the ground.

He stood wiping his mouth clean, his lips curled up in a smug smile.

She poked him in the chest. “You.”

“Mmmm?”

She went up on her toes and kissed him, open-mouthed, tasting her own pleasure on his lips. He kissed her back, hands skimming her back. She ran her hand down his front and curved it over the hardness under his zipper. He groaned into her mouth. She smiled and undid the zipper so she could stroke him into full hardness. His hips thrust against her hand.

“Go lie down,” she said.

“Bossy,” he said, following orders. She stepped one foot over his body and stood astride him a moment, letting him enjoy the view, enjoying him enjoying the view. Then she crouched down, kneeling with her knees on either side of his hips.

He started to push himself to a sitting position, reaching for her, but she put her hand on his his chest. “Nnn-nnnh,” she murmured, bumping her nose against his before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

He settled back against the blanket again, but left his hand where it was, warm calloused palm curved over her hip. “This is very relaxing.”

“Good. Excellent.” She kissed him more deeply, settling down over his body. His hard cock pressed promisingly against her slick center, which still fluttered with the last aftershocks of the orgasm he’d given her. The skirt of her dress puddled prettily on his stomach and over her legs. “I’m going to do all the work here.”

FINIS


End file.
